


But I'll Stray

by softlyforgotten



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco, The Young Veins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 22:38:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softlyforgotten/pseuds/softlyforgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I thought we stopped doing this."</p>
            </blockquote>





	But I'll Stray

It was late when Brendon finally left, leaving Pete sitting up with a restless Bronx and Ashlee asleep in the next room. Late, and it was still a half hour drive back to his place, but he wasn’t that tired, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and flipping idly through the radio stations until he found one playing old Beach Boy hits, the songs about surfing and sunshine incongruous with the dark night and the flash of lights on the highway overhead.

Brendon liked driving at night, though. It reminded him a bit of when they’d been on tour in the early days, piled in the van and starting to realise the enormity of what they were doing for the first time, whispering, _we will do this for the rest of our lives_ , and not caring if it was possible. It was like that, only without being cramped and smelly, and minus Spencer asleep with his head weighing down on Brendon’s bladder. He liked the reminder, and he liked being nostalgic without having to live it again, and he liked driving at night in LA, too, where there was always someone up later than him.

He still wasn’t used to the drive itself, though, and he almost missed the exit leading to his place, screeching around just in time. Someone honked behind him and Brendon grinned. Everyone hated each other here. They bared their teeth when they smiled. Brendon liked LA, but he wasn’t really sure what he was doing living in it. He thought that maybe, when everyone moved, he should have gone up to Chicago and lived near Jon. That would have been cool. He entertained the thought for a while, the idea of hanging out with Jon and Bill and Tom and going to see the bands around there, even though he knew that he would never have really gone.

About five minutes from his house, there was someone walking on the grass alongside the road, hands in their pockets, illuminated in his headlights. Brendon wondered idly what they were doing, and he glanced at them as they drove by. Then he blinked and slowed, pulling his car over to the side of the road and waiting, tapping his fingers in a fast beat on the steering wheel.

After a minute, the door opened and Ryan got in the car. He was a little out of breath, like he’d sped up when Brendon pulled over. “Hey,” he said, and pulled his seatbelt on, then turned the radio down.

Brendon tried not to grind his teeth. He fucking hated that, how Ryan would automatically turn music down when he got in a car, and especially considering that Ryan would pitch a fit if you ever so much as touched anything beside the goddamn seatbelt in his car, the hypocrite. Brendon was curious about exactly what Ryan was up to tonight, though, so he didn’t say anything, knowing it would just turn into another fight.

“Hi,” he said instead. “What are you _doing_?”

“Oh,” Ryan said, sounding kind of surprised. “I was at your place, but it was locked, so I went for a walk.”

Brendon bit back a laugh, grinning. The beach was right there, beautiful in the moonlight and barely a few steps outside of Brendon’s doorway, but Ryan had gone for a walk along the smelly road. He thought _of course_ , and said, “Sorry. Shane’s off at Regan’s place tonight.”

“I know,” Ryan said.

“You could have called,” Brendon told him. “I was just at Pete and Ashlee’s, it’s not so far.”

“My phone’s out of battery,” Ryan said. “How were they?”

“Okay. Ashlee’s tired, I think.” Brendon hummed something nonsensical under his breath, different from what the radio was playing. “I hadn’t been ‘round in ages. Bronx is all chubby.”

“Aw,” Ryan said, which was generally his automatic response to anything to do with Bronx. Ryan was really shitty with little kids, had a habit of staring at them with huge eyes like they were a different species and not talking to or playing with them at all. Brendon secretly thought that Ryan still held a grudge against Bronx for what he viewed as stealing Pete.

“So why’d you go over tonight?” Ryan asked.

“Oh, I looked after him for a few hours while they went out,” he answered, offhand, and then laughed when Ryan gaped at him. “What, dude, I had nothing else to do.”

“I thought they had a nanny,” Ryan said, still staring at him.

“Only when Pete’s on tour,” Brendon told him, pulling into his driveway and turning the car off. “One of Ashlee’s friends had some do, I don’t know, I said I’d look – mmf.” He reached automatically and touched Ryan’s back, smoothed over his shoulder blades, and opened his mouth when Ryan twisted awkwardly with his seatbelt caught around his waist and made a demanding noise, let Ryan push his tongue into Brendon’s mouth.

Ryan broke away, breathing quickly, and Brendon stared at him, brain slowly catching up with the action. He licked his lip absently where Ryan had bitten it, and Ryan’s gaze followed the movement steadily, unembarrassed. Brendon laughed a little incredulously, staring at him.

“Um, okay,” he said, and then shook his head, still surprised, even after a while, when his hair didn’t flop in his eyes. “I – what? I thought we stopped doing this.”

“Why?” Ryan said immediately.

Brendon blinked at him, wondering with a sudden rush of anger if Ryan was _serious_. “Why what?” he asked flatly.

Ryan’s gaze was unreadable. “Why did you think we stopped doing this?”

“Um, because we _stopped doing it_?” Brendon said, and flushed angrily, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car. He slammed the door, but it was probably lost on Ryan, who was busy climbing out of his seat, too. Brendon walked ahead of him quickly, unlocking the door. He thought about opening it and going inside and then slamming it in Ryan’s stupid blank face. Maybe he would. He hadn’t decided yet.

“That’s a stupid reason,” Ryan called, following him. Brendon clenched his fingers into a fist around his keys, the metal digging into his palm.

“Okay,” he said, turning around on the porch. “How about because your girlfriend just broke up with you, and you didn’t talk to me for two months?”

“I was pissed,” Ryan said tightly. “You—”

“It was a joke!” Brendon exploded. “For the millionth fucking time, it was a _joke_ , and if you can’t stop her going through your goddamn phone, _I_ can’t—”

Ryan kissed him again, pushing him up against the door. The knob was pressing against his back. Brendon gasped, because seriously, who did Ryan think he _was_ , but Ryan took it as an invitation and squirmed closer, hooking one arm around Brendon’s neck. Brendon fumbled for a moment behind him until the door swung open and they staggered inside.

Ryan broke away, looking straight at him. His pupils were blown, but Brendon knew he was sober, and he swallowed hard, Adam’s apple dragging against his throat. He said again, feeling frustrated and useless, “You didn’t _speak_ to me.”

“I’m speaking to you now,” Ryan said. “Don’t be such a fucking drama queen.”

Brendon scowled at him. “At least I’m not a fucking _jerk_ —”

“Are you saying no?” Ryan interrupted, and Brendon looked at him, at his red mouth, at his stupid hat sitting askew on his head. _No_ , he thought, but he didn’t say anything, and after a moment Ryan leaned forward and nudged at Brendon’s face with his, half-nuzzling down the line of Brendon’s jaw, breathing hot against the corner of Brendon’s mouth.

“I came here,” Ryan said, “I came here because I wanted—” and Brendon cut him off with his mouth, tossing his keys in the direction of the hall table and dragging Ryan closer by the hips, gripping him tight through his jeans. Ryan laughed softly, but not meanly, just like he was glad, and he whispered, “Okay, okay,” against Brendon’s mouth. Brendon kissed him hard and deep enough that he couldn’t talk anymore, and then Ryan’s hands were on Brendon’s chest, tugging the zipper down and wrestling him out of his hoodie and, oh man, that was a _good_ idea, and Brendon fumbled blindly with the buttons of Ryan’s vest, pushing it off his shoulders.

They stumbled down the hallway together and into the main room, yanking t-shirts off impatiently and leaving them where they fell. By the time Brendon had guided them through the kitchen and into his bedroom he wasn’t wearing anything at all, and Ryan was shoving his boxers down, breaking away to hop stupidly around the room when they got caught on his ankle.

Brendon laughed breathlessly and Ryan looked at him, bright-eyed, cock curving up to his stomach. “Come _here_ ,” Ryan said, and Brendon crossed the room quickly to him, smiled kind of stupidly in Ryan’s face. His mouth felt swollen already – Ryan was too liberal with his teeth, the fucker – and he couldn’t remember why he had been angry.

“Hey,” Ryan said, “Hey,” and Brendon nudged him forward, until Ryan’s knees hit the bed and he sat down with a quiet _oof_. Brendon leaned forward to kiss him and Ryan held Brendon’s face in his hands, almost sweet, and then scooted backwards, until he was up near the top of the bed. Brendon crawled up over him and licked his hand, curling it firmly around Ryan’s cock, and Ryan gasped most gratifyingly, and arched up towards him. Brendon jerked him off quickly, finding the angle that wouldn’t kill his wrist, brushing his thumb over the head on upstrokes.

“Stuff,” Ryan said suddenly, voice strained, and it said _something_ , Brendon thought, that Ryan didn’t need to clarify. Brendon let go, moving to the side to yank his bedroom drawer open, and pulled out condoms and lube. He dangled the strip over Ryan’s face, giggling when Ryan batted it away like a disgruntled kitten.

“You want,” he began, but Ryan shook his head quickly.

“You,” he said immediately, and then added, almost as if it was automatic, “Please.” Something tightened in Brendon’s chest, but he ignored it, ripping off the bottom condom and rolling it on easily, before he reached for the lube.

“Wait,” Ryan said, sitting up and shoving Brendon down onto his back. The pillow was cold, and Brendon groaned and turned his fevered cheek against it when Ryan sucked on the head of his cock. He went down slowly, cautiously, and Brendon reminded himself that it had been a while for both of them, and clenched his fingers in the covers, forcing himself to lie still.

He groaned into the pillow and looked down just as Ryan cast a glance up at him from under his eyelashes. “Fuck,” he said, “Fuck, Ryan, so good, I fucking missed your mouth.” Ryan hummed around his cock and sank down lower, and Brendon cursed, tossing his head from side to side, reaching down to pet awkwardly at Ryan’s head, his soft hair, run his hand down Ryan’s face and feel his cock pushing into Ryan’s mouth through his cheek.

“So good,” he said, again. “Ryan, fuck, you look so fucking hot, I can’t, it’s—”

“Maybe we should do a photoshoot,” Ryan said, pulling off, his voice husky. Brendon laughed weakly and dragged Ryan up with his hands curled around Ryan’s forearms to kiss him messily.

“I can’t see the label getting behind us on that,” Brendon told him.

“Pete would back us,” Ryan said, and Brendon ran his hands down Ryan’s back, palmed his ass. Ryan made a small, hitching noise but continued raggedly, “His dick’s already out there ‘til kingdom come.”

Brendon laughed. “I don’t think your new – Whatsherface would approve, either,” he said.

“Hmmn,” Ryan answered noncommittally, and rolled off Brendon and onto his back. “Come on, my turn.”

Brendon picked up the discarded lube obediently and slicked up his fingers. He was good at this, he knew, watching Ryan’s eyes flicker closed as he slid one finger in, he knew exactly what to do to make Ryan writhe and curse. _Innate talent_ , he thought smugly, and then, quieter even in his own head, _and years of experience_.

Ryan cried out, back arching, and Brendon scissored his fingers, felt Ryan clench tight and hot around him. He pushed a third in and Ryan reached for him mindlessly, and then dropped his hand to the side with a quiet, broken sound when Brendon leaned forward to lick a long line up the underside of Ryan’s cock.

Ryan liked being fingered, was the thing, and there had been one or two times when he had come unexpectedly just like this, and then been too lazy to do anything but jerk Brendon off. Brendon learned from his mistakes; now, he made a point of asking. “Ready?” he said, and Ryan nodded frantically, hair already wild on the pillow.

“Cool,” Brendon murmured, soft, and pressed a soft kiss to Ryan’s hip as he slid his fingers out. Ryan made another loud noise, voice cracking, and jerked his hips up. Brendon crawled up over him and kissed Ryan properly, and Ryan wrapped his arms around Brendon’s back, nails digging into his skin. Brendon half-whispered, “You want a pillow, or, or on your stomach,” but Ryan shook his head again, heading quickly towards the annoyed side of impatience.

“Alright, alright,” Brendon said, “hold your horses,” because his mother’s old favourite sayings had a disturbing habit of slipping out of his mouth in the middle of sex, and then he shifted again, making room for himself between Ryan’s legs, propping himself up on his elbows. Ryan pulled his knees up, lifting his ass, and Brendon lined himself up, looking down at Ryan a little helplessly. His arms were shaking a little with holding himself up, but it was okay. They’d get used to it enough in a moment, and he wouldn’t fall.

Ryan’s bottom lip was caught between his teeth, eyes half-closed, and Brendon watched Ryan’s chest swell with air and then pushed in. Fuck, but it had been a long, long time, felt longer than it actually was, and Ryan was so tight, moaning beneath him, sliding his hands up Brendon’s arms. Brendon stopped for a moment when he was all the way in, their hips pressed tight together, and Ryan opened his eyes and looked up at him, gaze dark and hungry and secretive. He rocked his hips upwards, making Brendon gasp, and then wrapped long legs around Brendon’s waist.

“Hey,” Ryan said, voice rough. “Hey, focus. Come on.”

Brendon looked darkly at him. “I _am_ ,” he said crossly, and punctuated it with a sharp twist of his hips. Ryan’s eyes slipped shut again and then he arched up, far enough that his cock just brushed against Brendon’s stomach.

When he opened his eyes, though, his face had taken on a slightly bitchy expression, eyes narrowed. “Then _move_ ,” he snapped, and Brendon pulled out almost all the way, lingering for another long moment, and then slammed back in, hard enough to make Ryan cry out, loud in the quiet house.

Brendon grinned down at him, baring his teeth. Then he did it again, and settled into a pace, fucking Ryan fast and hard, filling the room with the sound of their skin slapping together and their joined, harsh breathing. Ryan’s hands scrabbled for grip against Brendon’s skin, but Brendon didn’t want him to, fucked him hard enough that Ryan was shoved up helplessly again and again against the bed sheets.

“I, I,” Ryan stuttered out, and twisted underneath him, pushing back frantically onto Brendon’s cock.

Brendon didn’t stop, didn’t pause, just gritted his teeth and panted harshly, “What, Ryan?”

“Touch me,” Ryan said, pushing his hips up to meet Brendon’s, and grunting when Brendon got the angle just right.

“Maybe if you had said please,” Brendon said, and didn’t reach for Ryan’s cock, even when Ryan moaned helplessly and said _please_ about ten times in a row. After a moment, though, he slipped down on his elbows, running his hands through Ryan’s hair and knotting them in soft curls, and he was close enough then that Ryan could rub his cock up against Brendon’s skin, smearing pre-come on his stomach.

It was harder to concentrate now, the room and Ryan blurring in front of Brendon’s eyes, and he could hear himself moaning, louder than Ryan, starting to lose his rhythm. Then Ryan threw his arm out wildly, knocking an empty glass off of Brendon’s beside table, and came all over Brendon’s stomach.

Brendon pushed back onto his knees until he could support himself like that, and then he reached for Ryan and lifted his ass enough that he could slam in hard. Ryan clenched around Brendon’s cock again and again, gasping beneath him, and Brendon knew it was almost too much sensation for him but couldn’t stop. It wasn’t long, anyway, before he was making a choked off sound and falling forward, biting the skin just below Ryan’s collarbone hard, hard enough to make Ryan gasp.

When his hips stopped twitching, he raised his head weakly and Ryan was there, pulling him up enough that they could kiss, sloppy and bruising, before Brendon even got the chance to catch his breath. Ryan tugged on Brendon’s bottom lip with his teeth, and ran his hand down Brendon’s side, fingers tripping over each rib.

They broke away and Ryan said, “Hey,” and made an uncomfortable face. Brendon shifted and pulled out as carefully as he could, palming Ryan’s hip soothingly when he winced. He took the condom off and tied it, lobbied it awkwardly at the race bin, and pumped his fist when he got it in. Ryan rolled his eyes, and Brendon grinned, sitting up and getting off the bed. He crossed the floor and turned the light off while Ryan got comfortable under the covers. On his way back to the bed he paused to pick up Ryan’s boxers with his toes and then flick them up towards himself, swiping them through the come that was drying stickily on his stomach.

“Hey,” Ryan said, squinting at him in the dim light. “There’s a goddamn towel hanging right there on the door.”

“I don’t want your goddamn come on my goddamn towel,” Brendon proclaimed loudly, and Ryan rolled his eyes again, lying down on his side. Brendon laughed and chucked the boxers aside, crawling into bed beside Ryan. He didn’t worry about Ryan lying stubbornly with his back to Brendon. He had long ago discovered that Ryan couldn’t help being clingy after sex and, sure enough, a moment later Ryan rolled over and pressed up against his back, pushing one leg between Brendon’s.

“Night,” Brendon said sleepily.

“Night,” Ryan echoed. A moment later, he said, “Thanks,” and something chilled in Brendon’s stomach.

*

Ryan was still asleep when Brendon woke the next morning, and Brendon knew both that he’d be grumpy if Brendon happened to wake him up, deliberate or not, and that Brendon would never be able to lie still now that he was awake, so he rolled out of bed and padded out of the room. He picked up his old underpants in the hallway and put them on, scratching his belly and yawning.

Through the kitchen window he could see the waves breaking on the shore and they were good ones, Brendon thought that he’d go down later on today and spend a couple of hours with his board. It would probably work to put him in a good mood. He should be in a good mood already, body loose and satisfied and muscles aching nicely, but he had remembered why he had been angry last night, and it was making his movements short and impatient.

He put the espresso machine on, because Jon had gotten him into the habit of it, and so that he had something to do with his hands. He made enough for one and a half cups with a pleasant kind of vindictiveness, knowing that it was exactly the kind of thing that pissed Ryan off. That, and being woken up when he was sleeping, and people fiddling with things in his car, and Brendon not having sex with him, and Brendon having sex with him when his girlfriend found out.

Ryan’s socks were lying in the middle of the kitchen floor. Brendon wondered if he should go through the house and pick up the discarded bits of clothing before Shane got home. It wasn’t like Shane didn’t know; Shane and Pete and Ashlee and Spencer and Jon all knew, had always known. When Jon had joined the band, Brendon had watched through an ajar door one afternoon as Ryan shrugged his shoulders and said, “It’s just really convenient, you know?” Now, he looked at Ryan’s socks on the floor and tried to pretend that he didn’t like them there.

He drank his coffee sitting on the deck out the back, dangling his feet off the edge. He must have drifted off into thoughts about nothing at some stage, because after a while he took a sip of coffee to find that it was cold. Then the door closed behind him, and he looked around to see Ryan knuckling sleep out of his eyes.

“Morning,” he said.

“Is it, still?” Ryan asked blearily, and came over to make grabby hands at Brendon’s coffee. Brendon handed it over and then laughed softly when Ryan made a spluttering noise. He stopped laughing when Ryan spat his mouthful back into the cup.

“Thanks for that,” he said. “Real nice, all your saliva in my coffee.”

“It’s _cold_ ,” Ryan said.

“Maybe I was going to heat it up.” Brendon turned away, looking down towards the sea. There was one lone surfer down there. Brendon would wait until they were gone before he headed down himself. He didn’t feel like talking about waves with anyone.

“You’re mad at me,” Ryan said. He sounded puzzled and a bit hurt, like a little kid.

“No,” Brendon said.

“You got up,” Ryan pointed out. “Out of bed. You went off.”

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Brendon told him.

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “’cos you’re mad at me.”

Brendon shrugged. He hated arguing with Ryan. Ryan followed rules that nobody else knew. After a moment of hovering awkwardly behind him, Ryan finally came and sat down next to Brendon. Brendon saw him wince out of the corner of his eye as he adjusted his weight, but didn’t say anything.

“Do you not want to do last night again?” Ryan asked after a while. Brendon wished he didn’t sound so tentative. He was pretty sure that Ryan did it deliberately to make him feel bad.

“No,” he said shortly.

Ryan paused. “Is that no, you don’t want to, or no—”

“No,” Brendon said, “I don’t want to.”

“Oh,” Ryan said. He was quiet again for a moment, and then he asked softly, “Why?”

“Because we _stopped_ ,” Brendon snapped.

“I was just angry, it wasn’t—”

“Well, now it is, okay? I’m stopping it.” Brendon breathed in sharply and glared at Ryan. Ryan’s shoulders were hunched, thin chest pale in the morning sun, and he was wearing a pair of Brendon’s underpants.

“Okay,” Ryan said. He opened his mouth, like he was going to say something, then closed it. After a second, though, he clearly changed his mind and said, quickly, “Sorry.”

Brendon climbed to his feet. “Oh, fuck you,” he said, and walked inside.

Ryan followed him, of course. “What do you want me to _do_?” he shouted at Brendon’s back. “No matter what I do you get pissed! You want me to apologise? Fine, I’m fucking sorry, I shouldn’t have blamed you and I shouldn’t have ignored you – Jesus, Brendon, either you act like everything’s a joke or you’re mad at me! What do you _want_?”

“Fuck you,” Brendon repeated. “Fuck you, fuck you, I want,” and then, horrifyingly, his voice cracked. Ryan’s mouth fell open a little, eyes widening, and Brendon took in a shuddering breath and said, “I want you to leave me _alone_ —”

“No,” Ryan said, “No, I’m staying here,” and he walked forward and kissed Brendon. It was a weird kiss. Brendon didn’t respond, Ryan’s mouth moving soft on his with no input from Brendon, but he couldn’t help sagging forward a little, and Ryan held him up.

“Leave me alone,” Brendon mumbled. “Go and fucking kiss your girlfriend, don’t make me sing songs about some chick cheating on you, you fucking hypocritical asshole.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Ryan said. “But you’re right, I won’t do it again.” Brendon opened his mouth, feeling shaky on his legs, but Ryan cut him off, said, “No, Brendon. I’m staying here.”

“It’s my fucking house,” Brendon said weakly. Their foreheads were still touching, Ryan’s breath warm on his face. He had clearly brushed his teeth before he came out back to find Brendon. Brendon’s chest felt very tight.

“Yeah,” Ryan said stubbornly, “But you can’t make me, you can’t,” and Brendon sighed out, slumped forward. Ryan’s arms were looped loosely around Brendon’s waist, like they were dancing, and Brendon let his head fall forward to rest against Ryan’s shoulder because, no, he couldn’t, he had never been able to.

“I’m staying here,” Ryan repeated, and neither of them moved.


End file.
